check me at my second home

some posts are the same but many are not...

come visit me there too...

http://free2write70.wordpress.com

they say it's good for ya

either...

• im more saddened by breakups than i thought,
• im about to go into a lunar phase  or
• i need some.

because i have just binged on chocolate. i couldnt get enough of it. tongue orgasms, really. the caloric intake is in the 'got dayum' levels but we will burn it off...

one friday nite...

...sipping on plum wine trying to figure it all out on this misty friday nite. on one hand, all is well. we are alive, healthy and happy. on the other hand, i feel like a huge failure where fasting is concerned. okay, the failure moment is done. poof....be gone!

other women are getting all dolled up tonite. putting their best freak'em dresses on; their best mac faces...to be seen or to be chosen. yet, they will all swear that they are 'at the spot' to unwind. being a woman in 2009 america is funny like that sometimes.

my current struggles include (but are not limited to): not taking on other people's energy; holding my bff's hand as she goes through a 

 nasty divorce; and dealing with my own growth (and lack there of). 

i havent decided yet if it is narcissism that entertains my need to hold mirrors up and stare at fears and ugly parts. but for whatever reason, i get a kick out of cocoon and butterfly stages, alike.

i have decided to stop using a word processor to finish the manuscripts. i need more str

ucture that what wp give. i am not disciplined enough for that much blank space. do you know what happens for me, with th

at much space? you guessed it...nothing! the blank space seems to grow into massive whiteness; resounding emptiness. nothing to prompt me back. i'm sucking it up and purchasing some software. the bootleg software sucks rotten eggs. tired of not being able to completely finish a project in a consistent space/document. 

 

victory is mine

for the past few days i have had experiences

that feel like....a prayer manifested. 

certain intentions took shape! 

had a few tangible confirmations.

felt good!

yes, gotta stay humbled and chisel away at charaacter but....
singing ole church song my grandma would sing...

'victory is mine
victory is mine
victory today is miiine.
i told satan, get thee behind me,
victory today is mine.

joy is mine..."


despite new growth and old milestones, it still trips me out to see intentions manifest. its even tripper when they manifest quikly. lol

jinx

haha..

just cuz i said i was gonna write everyday...

it became damn-near an impossibility. 

they say,

u wanna make God laugh?

make plans.

poem 1

poem #1

septolet poem (seven lines, 14 words)

The Conqueror

Fear

fervently fights,

by lurking

in corners.

Forgetting,

smudges and prayers

specialize in lingering. 

30/30 huh: what have i gotten into?

i have committed myself to writing a poem a day, for the next 30 days, (Inshallah/God willing, i am blessed to see them, that is).

i am already putting myself thru a boot camp of sorts, to enhance flailing skills in discipline. the results are poor and to top it off, i have committed to writing every day this month.

as much as i want to gruel and complain about this "addition" to the things-to-do list, my reality is writers write: everyday. i have not been writing. the only thing that saves my neck is that i journal. but completed-writing tasks are left undone. so what do i say to this challenge?

good! maybe then i'll finish this book. needless to say, any works posted on this and other blogs are the rights and property of this writer. lets not have to pay court fees shall we? thanks.

disclaimer: i am not a poet. but i love to play with words, string sentences together and paint pictures. to get more meaning out of this, i've chosen to write in a poetic form most days and free-write/free-style poems and haikus to fill in the gaps. i'll focus on two poetic forms a week and go between the two, to create something. the poetic forms are chosen randomly. keep things interesting...

masterpieces of minimalism may be my best works. be kind. lol. these are mostly first drafts:) 

summer cleanse

so busy partying for the earthday that i completely forgot to purge and cleanse for the summer solstice. even today, i am eating ice cream and cake from yet another loved one's burfday celebrations. we are deep in the month of june and july. but now im feeling sluggish, piggish and ish. that cant go on. too hot for extra meat. bought some smooth move tea. thinking of sipping on it tonite and the next three nights. that or just take a sea salt cleanse. hope it isnt to uncomfortable but im certain that im pretty toxic:((( might be a bit painful. pain is a deterrent but what choice do i have? it's back to work in a few weeks.

father dearest.

joe jackson is publicizing his new record label, during the press release about Mike's second autopsy and funeral arrangements. can we say blood-sucking opportunist?

BETevil

there are no words for all that coonery. no classics. even the ojay tribute was all teeth. the only bright spot, was the sad occassion, Janet Jackson coming out to speak to the crowd. she reminded folks that mike was family for them, not an icon. ase. jamie is a penis sucking jerk, who did more shucking and jiving then most. and debra lee, as always with no clue. bet thought they did a good job. they even said that they did a great job with a tribute at the last minute. hogwash!

viacom has never agree to be a friend to the blak community. why should they create quality programming for our children? pathetic. that's what it is. bet is eating our children by the droves; contributing to the dumbing down of america. our future does not seem bright.

church anniversary musical and i dont even have a hat.

i have been pressured by my parents all week to attend the church anniversary musical tonite. i mean, both of them have called me, at separate, times to remind me of it. they dont ever both call me for church functions. i thought i had gotten them to the point where they left me alone about church. guess i was wrong. lol.

im going, cuz both of them have asked. im looking at it like a sacrifice. such a simple task, to give of my time, (((when i dont want to))), to attend something that would make my parents' heart smile. but it is the least i can do, in honoring them while they are still here. beside, this will count for sunday service!

and too, im interested in seeing if i shriek back when the church doors hit me, like vampires do sunlight, seeing as how my mom thinks its only the devil got me running from the church. lol.

my prayer for my parents is not that we see common ground.i dont even know if that's possible, considering how old they are. my prayer is that when my mother looks at me, she will have a peace that comes over her, that in her heart of hearts she knows, that I am favored by God. that i am guarded, guided, protected, spared, and blessed by God too.

meditation smeditation

during my birthday massage at a very swanky spa, i decided to practice meditating. i was successful for some minutes. other minutes, my mind wandered off to very far away places. it was always interesting, the conversations in my head, when i caught myself drifting and had to reel them (the thoughts) back in. funnier still, was how i startled myself every time i became aware that i had been mind-rambling. at times, i played complete scenarios out before i caught myself.

it has been many years since i have been a practitioner of yoga/meditation, so it's like learning to roller skate all over again. wobbly is not even the half. instead of schedules that i wont keep, i've devoted only 5 minutes a day to mediate. u'd be surprised how hard it is to come by five minutes, but that's another rant. however, in order to sit for long periods of time, i have to step my yoga game up. (no, 5 minutes is not long but i gradually add minutes so eventually we will have- long periods of time).

"Concentration can be cultivated. One can learn to exercise will power, discipline one's body & train one's mind." - Anil Ambani

the task at hand in yoga is to find union- between mind and body, between the individual and her God, between our thoughts and the source of our thoughts, between teacher and student, etc. (liz gilbert). yoga is sanskrit, translated as 'union'. yoga comes from the root word yuj, which means 'to yoke,' to attach yourself to a task at hand with ox-like discipline. since i suck at discipline, what better way to fight my way up the hill? so those pretzel-like moves we have come to know as yoga, is but only one part: hatha. it's hard enuff as it is to sit still and listen to God speak. it's even harder when your hip is hurting. so bending, twisting and flexing goes hand in hand with sitting to listen. 

after all, praying is talking. meditating is listening. i have come to learn that i talk alot. i dont listen much. and we cant have that!

at war

i am an agonized soul,

wounded viciously  

in battles between

my inadequate self

and my brilliant self.

insubordination

seems like every shortcoming i have, threw a victory celebration without giving a two-week notice. management will be sending out memos ASAP!

the new blak/brown unity

the final battle for sotomayor to wear her robe is underway. now all the republicans and nay-sayers are to attack and find ways to block her. i was cool with it, from the jumpstart. was happy for her. she's more than qualified. resume's pedigree. did u hear her speech? the parts about her mom? we all could relate: blak, white or other. we all love our mothers. 

what did move me was the constant reminders about the state of relations between blaks and latinos. i mean, i know it's there. i just dont know when it got there. i would agree with my conspiracy friends and say, it was a calculated plot to keep us from uniting. guess what? it worked.

when i was growing up, i was exposed to latinos two ways: one, my uncle the drummer, who found himself in afro-cuba/salsa worlds and (2) the latinos that lived in my neighborhoods in texas. there were no latinos in new orleans that i can even recall. it's safe to say, they (in texas) are mexicans. i met more latinos in chicago. in texas, mostly mexicans and salvadorians. anyhoot, we were cool as a fan in school. no beefs between us. i was interested in how come the whole world knows that blaks and latinos hated each other and i never got the memo.

here's what i know so far:

• some of blak america feels that latinos are riding the coattails of the civil rights movement. they had none of the pain, blood, sweat, and tears but benefit completely from blaks being killed and hung to have equality.
• latinos dont share a desire to uphold affirmative action the way blaks do 
• latinos think blaks should care more about immigration laws.
• Latinos resented the notion that they were merely junior partners in minority politics
  

by the 90s, things turned violent and the blak/brown divide grew wider than grand canyons. i think it's ridiculous. especially when u start tracing genetics/lineages/and history. how two groups of people who are more connected could be at such odds, is beyond me.

and the beef is bad: in california and texas the youth kill each other strictly b/cuz of skin color. both groups dont spend money with the other. no trust whatsoever and the racist remarks and cold glares at each other, up and down the street speaks to the challenges. all of this to jockeying for who is america's favorite minority group? what an honor:(

some say obama owed sotomayor's nomination to the hispanic vote, seeing as how they churned out a remarkable 67% of their vote to him. not a bad trade, if u ask me.

will obama and sotomayor be a soothing balm on the racial tensions of the two groups? maybe. maybe it just takes a little time and the right two leaders to help ease a sore spot. but sotomayor deserves this. she worked her buns off and she holds her own. it is a proud day for women as well as people of color. for now, i choose to be happy in that.

releasing

full moon. 

merc in retro. 

trippy all around. 

already took effect in one area...

sat under the moonlit night 

and recalled 

negative thoughts, actions, words

that need to be released;

that become roadblocks

to optimal performance.

to name them one by one,

and release them.

the great divide

there's this thick wall 

between us

that wont give way.

we go along 

to get along, 

sleep. eat. play.

going thru motions

like we're building 

for a new day.

just robots

on autopilot

moving bricks away.

one by one.

bit by bit.

without urgency

massive delay.

trying to hide 

the obvious:

that we have no faith

in our tomorrow

decluttered elevation

must free my space of

all things that create blockage,

move to higher ground.

late nite, hangover mornings.

not that im drinking but when i go to bed late, my mornings are terrible..i struggle with getting out of the bed. yet, i never want to go to bed before midnite, go figure.

just finished my summer reading list with shelfari. it looks good. great thing, is the first eight books- i already have. i wont have to spend money on books for awhile. really happy about that.

speaks to intent

sincere intentions

fall on deaf ears

silenced by daydreams;

vice-gripping  productivity 

into less than desireable

works of minimalism.

heads bowed, low

at the lack of pride

attached to work,

reminiscent of generations

gone by

that expected excellence

in every action.

so, is the battle- fear?

one more distraction

hindering things-to-do-lists

from being crossed off 

like horizontal victories

in a tic tac toe game.

the deepest exhales

force escape, 

in being humbled by 

the negative realities

of personal truths

and flaws

and ugliness.

yet, amidst intention 

is the awe-inspiring connection

that all 

that is needed

for victory 

is within.

how do u tap the tree

for the sap?

the healing

oozing 

for consumption

for power

to move mountains, 

one rock at a time.

sincere intentions

finally meeting 

with the accuracy

of the great archer

and the determination

of a single link chain.

to produce harvests,

that match 

calabashes

flowing 

with prosperity 

and prayers.

cloned-dawg

just read a short-short about a wealthy couple who cloned their dog, then went looking for the college kid (now grown woman) who used to dog-sit the last dog. they wanted to recreate past life experiences. started off like it was going to be good. it wasnt. i would've written more twists and turns with it. made the dog psycho or something. instead it was all  about the dumb, cloned dog and how it didnt listen. there is a small undercurrent about the superficiality of spending that kind of money, (quarter million) and the soulless materialism that ego-seekers take pleasure in. on to the next short, in the anthology.

dusting off the grant writer

just received a phone call from a long time friend who i had not spoken to in at least a year. she calls to say she is looking for a grant writer. didnt budge. everyone's "looking". then, she says the magic words, "have funds, can pay." she agreed to a few more terms, asked me to send a functional resume and we will go from there. It will be contractual, so it wont interfere with my daily job. it has been at least two years since my last grant. let me get to dusting things off and getting organized. this could be a great break for me, not to mention a significant financial gain. not name dropping but the potential is great and the client, who she is asking for, is HUGE. 

May the Divine bless my endeavors and allow me all success.

poet smoet

here it is, the last day of national poetry month i have not written one poem. not one, single, solitary poem. do i feel bad? not really. would i have like to have written one? sure. but instead, i have decided to share one of my fav poems by one of my fav poets: Imamu Amiri Baraka.

Ka 'Ba

A closed window looks down on a dirty courtyard, and black people call across or scream or walk across defying physics in the stream of their will Our world is full of sound Our world is more lovely than anyone's tho we suffer, and kill each other and sometimes fail to walk the air We are beautiful people with african imaginations full of masks and dances and swelling chants with african eyes, and noses, and arms,  though we sprawl in grey chains in a place full of winters, when what we want is sun. We have been captured,  brothers. And we labor to make our getaway, into the ancient image, into a new correspondence with ourselves and our black family. We read magic now we need the spells, to rise up return, destroy, and create. What will be the sacred words?  http://www.amiribaraka.com/

deep sleep

i think i'll go crawl up under him now and exhale into restful slumber. if willed, i shall blog manana. if willed, i shall think it. do it. be it.....a writer turned published author! 

til next time...

btw

i did nothing on my things to do list for tuesday. that really sucks. i have the nerve to complain about my project management skills and i wasted away on twitter. smh!

We Begin, Again

i have a few blogs actually. the gaps between dates for the posts is amazing to me. yet, i'm a die-hard for electronic journaling so here we are again:) besides, those other blogs are not fit for public consumption. i need somewhere to vent and rant uncontrollably, without judgements.

the writing bug is coming back. yeaaa! 

i am also excited about reading. i have a few already that i need to churn thru, in addition to putting together a summer reading list.

i'm planning to the do the poem a day, for 30 days activity. this is the mail reason i started this blog. i wanted somewhere for others to come and peer into my world, my madness and my joys.